Phone Number
by SlayGal27
Summary: Series of 11/Clara oneshots. A bit interconnected. Not all will be fluffy. Some shall be canon. Others not so much.


**A/N: A bit of fluff as a make up for my last angsty fic. Inspired by a prompt on Tumblr.**

**Disclaimer: If only.**

He was naturally fidgety. Perhaps it was just this regeneration. Perhaps it was the coffee Clara had brought with her onto the TARDIS. She had let him try a bit that morning. He felt jittery, even more so than usual. But that wasn't because of the coffee.

That was because of the dark haired impossible girl across the console from him. He leaned forward on his elbows, then changed him mind and stood back up, hands behind his back, and again, going back, bracing himself against the rail.

Before he could do it again, Clara's voice broke through his reverie.

"Yes..."

"What?"

"What do you want?"

"What do you mean what do I want? I don't want anything."

"Yes you do," she turned to look at him, "You only fidget about like that when you want somethin'. So, out with it. What d'you want?"

"Nothing. Nothing, nothing, it's just..."

"Yeeeesss?"

"Clara, may I have your phone number?"

She stared at him for a long moment. In that moment, he straightened his bowtie, ran a hand through his hair, and changed the way he was standing twice.

"So? May I?"

She couldn't help it. She laughed.

"Oi, it is not funny. Oi! Stop it!"

She did as he asked, eventually, holding a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound.

"Why d'you want my phone number?"

"Well, you have mine. I mean, it's only fair."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh really?"

"No, no, I-I didn't mean it like that. I just mean, we're friends, you and I, and isn't that something friends do? You know, have each others phone numbers?"

He could feel his face heating up, and he could hear her incessant giggle slice through the air.

"You're blushing," she stated.

"I am not!"

"You are blushing Doctor. I can see it, right... there."

She touched the tip of her finger to his cheek.

"Oh, forget it," he huffed. He began to walk away, planning on going to the library to read, or fume. Whichever worked.

"Oh, come back here you great five year old."

He spun around.

"I am not five!"

She laughed again. This was not fair. She could make his hearts beat faster just by smiling, and he couldn't even get her bloody phone number.

"Let me get some paper Chinboy."

She walked away to grab some, calling back, "Oh, by the way Doctor, could you set the coordinates for my flat?"

"How come?" He straightened off the console like a marionette. When she didn't reply, he assumed she'd gone into her room to get a sticky note or something along those lines. Clara loved sticky notes. So he enacted her request.

She peeked her head back around the corner.

"All set then?"

"Yes, it's all set," he sighed.

"Brilliant. And to answer your question," she answered, walking towards the console, and bending down to use the surface as a desk, "I've got work in the morning. And I need to sleep in my own bed."

"You have your own bed here on the TARDIS."

"Then I need my own life. Doctor, you know I love traveling with you, but I've got a job. I've got papers to grade. I've got a dad to take care of."

She pulled of the note, folded it, and turned to face him.

"I wish I could just run away with you in your box. But I can't. And besides," she took his hand from his side, making him notice how close they actually were, and placed the light blue paper into his hand, "Now you can call me anytime you like."

She smiled, and he leaned in, placing a quick kiss on her cheek.

The corner of her mouth quirked up again and stayed there. She placed her hands on his shoulders, leaned up, and copied his action. She pulled away. Their hands were still linked.

"Goodnight Doctor."

She walked away, their joined hands staying that way until her walk had pulled her away completely, and she was out of the TARDIS doors and into the darkness.

"Goodnight Clara," he murmured, easy smile settling over his lips. He pulled open the sticky note, staring at the numbers scrawled across it's surface. He tucked it into his breast pocket, and for the first time in a long time, for the rest of the night, that smile never fell off his lips.

**I kinda want to continue this. Just a series of fluffy oneshots. Thoughts?**


End file.
